


Ambedo

by KyGhostly



Series: a little world far away, all in my head [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, Drabble, Drawing, Friendship, Gen, I like them but theyre vague and like.. even i dont know where they are anymore, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied Relationships, Introspection, Metaphors, Non-binary character, Short One Shot, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyGhostly/pseuds/KyGhostly
Summary: ~There is a weight on his chest that he can't dismiss or place where it came from.
Series: a little world far away, all in my head [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061018
Kudos: 1





	Ambedo

**Author's Note:**

> Ambedo  
> -n. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.

~

**T** here is a weight on his chest that he can't dismiss or place where it came from.

It creeps up at him, and it leaves him feeling empty. An emptiness deep within the heart, that makes it harder to breathe and harder to focus. He doesn't know where it comes from, or why it weighs him down so much, but when it does, he wants to go to sleep and never wake up. Wants to go to a little hill away from his house, sit under the shade of a tree for hours and hours until it gets dark and cold and he starts shivering from the night's icy wind. It is weird how easily he lets it get the better of him, lets it make his day moody and grey.

Some days, when he falls too deep into a melancholic state, he goes for a run. Adrenaline coursing through his veins and making the most out of his unplaced anger at himself. He runs for long periods of time, sweating and breathing hard, heaving when he stops to rest. It makes him feel less dead, less like a corpse that's just waiting to be buried. He wishes it would just, stop. Stop and go away and let him feel more full, more like he's not walking just to one day fall in a ditch and break. He breathes in one, two, three. Out, four, five, six.

Maybe, maybe.

One day, he'll find out what gets him like this, what makes him feel like this, but today is not that day. Today, he sits in his armchair, near the fireplace, and does nothing but half-heartedly sketch out little things that amuse him. The way Omelia's hips curve, how Rei's eyes twinkle when he finds something amusing, when Lore saw the sunset and cried of happiness, and so on. After some time, he gets more into it.

Presses more into the page to indicate the darkness of Zeke's hair, and the way he sometimes looks at Lore when he thinks no one looks, how his mouth quirks up in a soft smile. Carefully dots every freckle on Helen's face, making sure that her hair is all poofy and carefully in a bun. He begins ripping out pages from the sketchbook and letting them fall to the floor and begins drawing even faster.

Uses sharp flicks of charcoal to mark the way Omelia's hair falls down below her back, muscled legs and arms defined by her swimming lessons. Makes sure that he draws careful lines indicating Lore's scars, the way that show them not as a weakness that they think they are there, but an indicator of what they had to go through, and to show that they survived. Slowly shades Rei's pale skin, and the way sunlight bounces off of it, like polished marble.

It is exciting, and it gives him happiness, giving life to the pictures. It occupies his time, and the sunlight from the window turns to moonlight, as the hours pass and he gets lost in the art and the way he manages to make his classm- _friends_ alive through the little art pieces. He sighs, and blinks, looking around and then gazing at the clock opposite him. It's close to midnight. There is a bundle of papers on the floor, thrown around haphazardly, and he realizes he'll have to pick them up and sort them out.

Sighing yet again, he stands up. He'll do it tomorrow when he wakes up. He goes to sleep, feeling a sense of satisfaction, and has dreams of sea and birds soaring through the sky, free and uncaged, alive.

~

**Author's Note:**

> this is EXTREMELY self-indulgent because i was in A Mood, so the only thing I knew that would get me out of one is writing soooo,,,,,have,,,,,this
> 
> also comment if u want some more crap like this lmaoo


End file.
